


Waves Crash (on the shore of the heart)

by josthockeythings



Category: Mamma Mia! (Movies), Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fix it AU, Homophobic Language, Lot's of Sleeping Around, M/M, Mamma Mia AU, Mamma Mia Prequel parts, Saddness, Smut, Stand Alone, because it hurt so much when Sam was so close to getting Donna back, because ya know that's what Donna aka Dylan does, it's very light i prOMISE, like once I think????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josthockeythings/pseuds/josthockeythings
Summary: Dylan's family has always expected more of him. When his parents don't show up to his college graduation, he heads to a journey across the globe to look for... well he's not sure. When he meets the beautiful architect, he thinks his life might have finally taken the positive turn he's been needing.AKA The Mamma Mia Fix It Au no one asked for
Relationships: Alex DeBrincat/Dylan Strome, Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome, Nick Merkley/Dylan Strome
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> First, if you have found this by Googling yourself or someone you know please turn back now. This is entirely a work of fiction. 
> 
> Second, I own no rights to Mamma Mia, or Mamma Mia Here We Go Again or their plots. I just hurt after Sam got so close to getting Donna back and needed to Fix It. (I know that's how it had to happen or there would've been no first movie in the first place, but let me be happy in this fic please.) 
> 
> So, clearly this is a Mamma Mia AU and they get together at the end, so like (spoilers) I guess?? But it can be read alone without having watched either movie. Although there are several lines I take straight from the movies because they are truly to go to leave out. I had this idea ever since the movie came out but it took me several months to figure out what pairing I wanted to use because I wanted their personalities to come as close to the movie characters as possible, and I feel this is really really close, if not perfect. (It's as close as I'm going to get anyway.)
> 
> Thank you so so much to my lovely beta eafay70. It took many many months to write this and she really stuck it out with me through the whole process. 
> 
> It is finished and I will be posting every other day until every chapter has been added! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!!

Dylan groans, stepping out onto the balcony of the small apartment in Toronto he shares with his closest friends, Mitch Marner and Mikey McLeod. They are both sitting on old beach chairs they’d bought at someone’s street sale last summer.

Dylan sits down with his back to the wall. “They didn’t come,” Dylan sighs, putting his head in his hands. “They never come to anything.”

“Did Ryan come?” Mitch asks.

Dylan shakes his head again. “But, he like, actually told me he wouldn’t be able to a couple of weeks in advance because of some dumb business trip in Florida this weekend. He wanted to. My parents… they didn’t even want to come.”

“That’s not true,” Mikey protests.

Dylan shakes his head again. “I’m not the prodigal son that’s almost CEO of his own company by the age of 26. I’m not the music prodigy in Julliard. I’m just the dumb, fag, middle child that barely made it through business school.”

Mitch sighs and plops himself right next to Dylan. “Kay, so first, don’t ever say that about yourself again. Second, so they don’t notice you. Do something that will make them.”

“Like what?” Dylan asks, looking up at Mitch.

Mitch shrugs. “Mikey, got anything?”

Mikey thinks for a second. “You could leave the country.”

“What the fuck kind of idea is that?” Mitch asks.

Dylan nods. “Actually. That’s a good idea. I’ve got enough money to get out of here and start somewhere else, even if they notice the charges on their credit card and cut me off. I could pick up a job at a local bar or something, live wherever I can find a couch. Even if they don’t notice I’m gone, at least I’ll be far enough away from them for it not to bother me anymore.”

“You’re going to leave us?” Mitch asks. Dylan can see his bottom lip quiver. And despite his teasing tone, Dylan can tell Mitch is kind of broken up about this.

“I’m not really leaving you guys. You can come visit. We’d have so much fun.”

“Where will you go?” Mikey asks.

Dylan shrugs. “Anywhere the wind takes me, I guess.”

Mitch sighs. “Okay. We’ll help. If you’re really going to do this, we’ll help.”

Dylan beams and pulls them both into a group hug. “You guys are the best.”

Two weeks later, Dylan’s life is packed in two suitcases and a backpack. He’s standing outside the gate to his plane.

“We’ll miss you,” Mitch says, tears in his eyes. Mikey and Mitch give him another hug before he waves and heads to his plane. He looks back and sees Mikey and Mitch holding each other and waving at him. He waves one last time and hands the stewardess his ticket. She smiles at him as she rips the perforation.

“Welcome aboard.”

The flight is heading to Paris, France. And from there, Dylan’s not quite sure where he’s going. But he’ll find his way, one way or another.

It’s a long flight. Dylan sleeps intermittently. But he wakes up when he feels the plane starts to descend. He looks out the window. The Eiffel Tower is the first thing he sees. Dylan sucks in a deep breath. He’s really doing this. It’s hard to believe but he’s really doing this.

He doesn’t really have a destination when he gets off the plane. Maybe he’ll stay in Paris. It’s a nice city. Beautiful culture and incredible architecture. He walks by several hotels but doesn’t stop until he finds one outside the city a little run down, but beautiful nonetheless. It’s quiet inside. The front room is empty besides the red, satin seating and polished, dark wood tables with small stone coasters.

No one is at the front desk. There’s a bell on the counter and a wall of keys and hooks behind it. Dylan taps the bell, once, twice. No one comes. He looks around the corner and set his stuff down before slipping behind the counter to grab a key. He startles when he hears someone clears their throat. A boy looking close to Dylan’s age is standing halfway down the stairs, wrapped in a silk bathrobe. He starts talking in a garbled French about getting locked out of his room. Dylan squeezes his hands behind his back trying not to giggle. He understands the story, only for the fact that it is mostly told in English, and this boy’s French absolutely sucks. When he finishes, Dylan coughs into his hand, still holding back laughter and says “Can you say all that again? I didn’t catch it,” in English.

The boy nods and says, “Oui,” before hurrying down the rest of the stairs to stand in front of the desk. He almost starts into his story again before straightening and giving Dylan a confused look. “You speak English?”

Dylan nods. “I don’t understand French,” he says with a shrug.

“So… do you work here,” the boy asks,

Dylan shakes his head.

“I should probably call the police then,” the boy says hesitantly and reaching for the phone.

Dylan gently puts his hand on the boy’s. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

They stare at one another for a moment. The boy cracks a small smile. “I suppose they wouldn’t understand my French anyway.”

Dylan smiles with him. “Now, which room are you in? I’ll get you that spare key.”

The boy chuckles. “282.”

Dylan turns to the wall of keys. He grabs the key for room 282 and the key for 283 as well. “There you are. I’ll take the room next to yours if you don’t mind.”

He shakes his head. “No, not at all. “I’m Nick,” he says, offering his free hand to Dylan to shake.

Dylan does. “Dylan. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The pair walk up the stairs together. “Why don’t I show you around? I’ve been in Paris for a while. Could show you all the good spots?” Nick looks nervous, wringing his hands as he asks.

“That sounds great to me,” Dylan says.

“I’ll just get changed then.” 

Dylan nods and they go off into their respective rooms. Dylan sets his bag and suitcase down on the bed. He goes to the window and throws the curtains open. The view is incredible. The Eiffel Tower rises above all the other buildings. He opens the window to stand on the small Juliet balcony. The air smells incredible, like bread and pastries, but fresh and crisp at the same time. Maybe a hint of flowery perfume. He throws on a new shirt, one that doesn’t stink of airplane and readjusts his hat. When he thinks he looks acceptable, he leaves the room, backpack bag slung over his shoulder with the essentials. He locks the door behind him and slips the key into a pocket of his backpack. He doesn’t have to wait too long. Nick comes out, dressed well and locks his door behind himself.

“Ready?”

Dylan nods.

Nick takes him into cute shops and by pastry shops that smell too good not to stop in. Nick buys him pastries and coffee that they sip slowly and learn about the little flavors hidden in it. They stop in a small tourist boutique. Nick buys him a small Eiffel Tower replica. Dylan rolls his eyes, still smiling, and takes the metal statue.

Nick pulls him into a café for dinner. They get seated near the door. A waiter brings some wine by after Nick asks.“So, what are you doing all the way here?” he asks.

Dylan rips a piece of bread off the loaf in the basket. “I’m trying to escape my parents.”

Nick’s brow furrows. “Why?”

“They don’t think I’m as good as my brothers. I’m going to start a life for myself, without their help or their approval.” He shoves the piece of bread into his mouth trying to ignore the feelings of loneliness and missing his friends. He knows it’s only because he hasn’t really done anything yet. “What about you? Why are you so far from home?”

Nick takes a breath. “It’s kind of complicated.”

Dylan holds his wine glass to his lips. “We have time,” he says before taking a sip.

He watches Nick swallow nervously. “My parents… they’re not so thrilled with me right now, either. I, uh, may have told them something about myself that they weren’t all too willing to hear. I came here to give them some space and think about what I told them.”

“What did you tell them that was so bad? That you like men?” Dylan asks giggling. Telling his mom and dad that he was gay was the least of his problems. At least they could accept that. They couldn’t care less what or who he did in his personal time. As long as he was successful that is. But he’s not that.

Nick shifts and hangs his head.

“It wasn’t that, right?” Dylan asks again, becoming worried he offended Nick. He’s actually kind of cute.

Nick nods quickly, then tries to hide behind his wine glass, taking a long gulp.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean-“

Nick shakes his head and cuts Dylan off. “No, no. Don’t worry. I get it. Different experiences for different people.”

Dylan nods. “My parents don’t care who’s in my bed as long as I’m making money, and that’s not really happening.”

Nick nods slowly, “So, do you…” he trails off before finishing his sentence.

“What like guys? Sleep with guys?” Dylan asks, ripping another piece of bread off.

Nick nods nervously again.

“Yeah. Girls don’t really do anything for me.”

“Really?” Nick seems to light up. He looks happier than Dylan’s seen him thus far, even while he was practically forcing pastries down his throat and buying him touristy trinkets.

Dylan nods. “Oh yeah. Never had a steady boyfriend or anything. All the guys at my university were curious or only in it for the night, besides my best friend anyway. But, we tried that and… well… We are decidedly not the guys for each other in that sense.”

Nick giggles into his wine glass before taking another sip.

The waiter comes by and they order, or well, Nick orders for them.

“Trust me. You’ll love this.”

“You haven’t steered me wrong so far. I trust you.”

Nick smiles. “So, are you staying here in Paris?”

Dylan shakes his head. “No. I think I’m going to Greece.” He doesn't know where it came from, but it sounds right. He thinks he remembers one legend about one of the islands anyway.

“What’s in Greece?”

“Well, there’s an island called Kalokairi. People used to think that if you sailed on from there, you’d fall off the edge of the Earth. That sounds like the place for me.”

“That’s quite a ways,” Nick says.

Dylan nods. “Need to get as far away from my family as possible. It seems like a good place to set down some roots.”

“When do you plan on leaving Paris.”

Dylan shrugs. “Probably soon. I don’t have any plans set in stone but getting there is the point of this entire thing.”

The waiter sets the food down at the table.

“So, ah, I was wondering,” Nick stammers.

Dylan takes a bite of his food staring at Nick waiting for him to continue. The food is so good he just can’t though. “You were right. I love this. It’s so good.”

Nick cracks a smile. “I’m glad, really. But I was hoping that maybe you’d like to be my first.”

Dylan pauses and blinks at Nick for a minute. “Like… you’re a virgin?” he asks quietly.

Nick swallows. “Not exactly… I’ve just never… with a guy…”

The nerves are apparent in all of his body languages. Dylan feels bad for him, and yeah he’s cute, but it’s not what he planned on doing. He definitely didn’t plan on doing this before getting to his destination.

“Please. You’re sweet and cute and…” Nick stops and takes a breath.

“Stop. I’m not going to make you beg,” Dylan says, leaning forward to put his hand on top of Nick’s which are fidgeting on the table in front of him. “I think you’re really cute. So, why not?”

Nick’s eyes light up and they finish their dinner quickly. The race back to the hotel together, hand in hand, occasionally tripping over each other’s feet. Dylan kisses Nick against the door of Nick’s room. It’s slow and gentle. He cups Nick’s chin holding him there with his head tipped just right. Dylan isn’t much taller than him, but it’s enough to make this feel good, like he’s protecting Nick in some way.

He fishes Nick’s key out of his pocket and unlocks the door without pulling too far away. Dylan pushes Nick into the room and back against the wall. He pushes his leg between Nick’s, trying to get them both some friction and further the kiss into something heated. Nick’s breath catches when Dylan does. Dylan smirks before going back into the kiss. Nick gets his hands on Dylan’s hips, pulling him closer. Dylan kisses down Nick’s neck, sucking a little here and there, hoping to leave some small marks behind for Nick to remember him by. 

Nick moans, tipping his head back against the wall. He tugs on Dylan’s hair, and Dylan meets his mouth with a smothering kiss. 

“Bed,” Dylan pants.

Nick nods. They stumble through the small hotel room until the collapse on the bed together. Dylan positions himself on top and takes a moment to admire Nick. He really is quite a pretty boy. He makes Nick sit up so he can strip Nick’s shirt off. Then, Nick strips Dylan’s off. It doesn’t take long before they’re both naked on top of the comforter. 

Dylan presses his hips into Nick’s forcing another moan from his lips. Dylan just wants to hear those sounds over and over again. He wants to know how good he’s making Nick feel. A kind of good that Nick has never felt before. 

“What do you want?” Dylan asks. He doesn’t know how far Nick has ever gotten and doesn’t want to hurt him in anyway. 

“Everything,” Nick breathes, his hips hitching up looking for friction. 

Dylan leans down and nips at Nick’s collar bone. “Have you ever fingered yourself?”

Nick gasps then nods.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Dylan asks.

Nick nods again, panting as Dylan licks down his neck and across his collar bone in wide stripes of his tongue. 

Dylan hums and sets to work on a hickey near the side of Nick’s chest. He reaches down and gets his hand around Nick’s cock. He pumps it while he sucks, getting Nick hopelessly hard and turned on. It’s only then does he asks Nick where he’s keeping his lube. Nick waves vaguely at the pile of clothes under the window. 

Dylan sighs and gets up. He only has to rifle through Nick’s bag for a little less than a minute to find lube. He grabs his wallet from his own bag for a condom. He knee-walks over to Nick, once he’s back on the bed. Nick’s eyes are closed, and he seems like he’s trying to calm himself down. 

Dylan presses a soft kiss to the inside of Nick’s thigh. “You ready?”

Nick nods frantically, clearly failing at keeping calm. 

Dylan carefully lubes up a finger and presses it against Nick’s hole. He teases Nick for a moment, happy to listen to Nick whine and watch him squirm, just by having a finger at his hole. Then, Dylan slowly pushes in. Nick opens around his finger beautiful. Nick gasps. It’s clear no one has ever done this to him but himself. Dylan works his finger in and out, seeing just how loose Nick is and how wonderfully open he is to letting Dylan work. 

Dylan carefully slides out so he can administer lube to a second finger. Nick whines softly until Dylan presses back in. Nick still opens perfectly for Dylan. He pumps his fingers in and out for a moment. Then, he gets them in deep, forcing a moan from Nick. He twitches his fingers into a curve, hoping to hit Nick’s prostate. By the way Nick scream, Dylan is going to assume he did. He massages the spot, listening to Nick yelp and moan and beg Dylan. Dylan can’t quite tell what Nick is begging for, but he is reduced to a constant stream of “Please” and moaning. 

Dylan slides his finger out carefully.

“No, please!” Nick begs again. 

Dylan shushes him, running a hand along Nick’s thigh to soothe him. He lubes a third finger and presses in. There’s a little more resistance this time, but Nick doesn’t seem to be in any kind of discomfort, so Dylan forges on. He gets Nick panting thrusting his fingers in and out before pressing against Nick’s prostate again. Nick whines and pushes his hips down on Dylan’s fingers looking for more.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Dylan asks, curling his fingers.

“Yes, please, yes!” Nick begs, continuing to thrust his hips down.

Dylan smirks and pulls his fingers out. 

It’s a task to get the condom out and on his dick with one hand almost entirely covered in lube, but he manages because Nick is clearly not able, the way he’s splayed across the bed, looking cum dumb and fucked out already. Dylan strokes himself a few times to get himself slick before he lines up at Nick’s hole. He leans forward and presses a gentle to kiss to Nick’s lips. Then, he takes Nick’s dick in one hand and his own in the other. He guides himself into Nick, carefully stroking him at the same time. 

Nick moans, throwing his head back against the pillow. He clutches at the sheets around him, knuckles turning white. Dylan doesn’t stop, the pleasure clear on Nick’s face. He only stops when he’s fully seated inside of Nick’s pulsing ass. It feels incredible. It doesn’t feel like any other virgin, questioning boy Dylan has ever been with. It feels almost magical in a way. Dylan wants to move so badly, but is unsure whether or not Nick is ready for it. 

He caresses Nick’s cheek and kisses him again. “Let me know when you want me to move,” Dylan says softly against his ear.

Nick hums in response. He leans up to kiss Dylan again. They kiss for a moment and when Nick’s hips start to hitch again, Dylan knows it’s time to go.

He pulls away from Nick carefully and takes hold of Nick’s hips. He licks his lips and slides out gently. Nick whines. “No, please.”

Dylan doesn’t want to make this boy beg so he pushes back in with a little more intent. Nick gasps silently, mouth left open as Dylan begins to fuck him in earnest. Dylan truly loves that look of awe on his face, like he never knew sex could be quite like this, quite this good. 

Then, Nick groans and his eyes close as he falls back hard against the pillows. Dylan can tell he’s close. So, Dylan takes a hand off Nick’s hips to stroke his cock. Nick starts to pant erratically and Dylan grins. 

“Please, please,” he begs and babbles hysterically as Dylan carefully takes him apart.

It doesn’t much longer to send Nick over the edge, hot, white cum striping his stomach and gushing onto Dylan’s hand. 

Dylan slows his thrusts, unsure how he is going to finish, what Nick is going to be comfortable with. 

“What are you doing?” Nick asks, the bewilderment clear in his voice even as sex addled as it is. 

“Do you want me to pull out? I can finish with my hand,” Dylan says quietly, leaning to nibble at Nick’s ear. The way Nick is clenching tightly around him, Dylan’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last anyway. 

“No, keep going, please,” Nick says.

Dylan pulls away to look Nick in the eye. He smiles up at Dylan, lopsided and dopy. He’s clearly still cum dumb but so happy and compliant, Dylan’s not going to say no. He quickly builds his pace back up. Nick is moaning softly along with each thrust. 

Dylan can’t keep his eyes open as he gets closer. He plants his hands on either side of Nick’s chest and begins to thrust deep and hard, forcing whines out of Nick in a way Dylan hadn’t heard prior. Then, Dylan feels it build and crest. He’s coming hard. He moans, back arching. He pushes deep into Nick one last time.

Then, Dylan collapses next to Nick. Nick curls into Dylan, hooks his leg over Dylan’s hip, sheets tangled between them. It’s quiet and still. Dylan is content just to lay there for now.

“That was…” Nick sighs not finishing his sentence.

“It was good. Really good,” Dylan says for him.

Nick nods against Dylan’s chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! Hope y'all enjoy, and sorry for the late drop. Work and hockey (which is also work) got in the way!

Sliding out of Nick’s bed once he’s fallen asleep is the hardest thing Dylan has ever had to do thus far in his life. He scribbles a short note on the hotel stationary about how great he was, but he has to go on and how it pains him to leave Nick behind. He gives Nick one last kiss on the forehead before slipping out of his room and into his own. He sleeps only for a few hours before he gets up, collects his things and leaves. He puts the key to his room on the front desk before exiting the hotel altogether.

He finds the train station easily enough bags in tow. He buys a ticket to Italy and gets on. It’s about a day trip. He holds up in a seat by himself. He pulls out a book out of his messenger bag and reads. He gets fed up after a while, unable to concentrate. So, he takes out his journal and writes about his adventures with Nick in Paris. He grabs the hotel stationary he stashed in his bag and writes to Mitch and Mikey. He misses them. It’s weird to be away from them. He tells them about how beautiful Paris is and how wonderful Nick was. He’s not falling in love, and he tells them as much because he knows what Mitch will think. It was only one night and will hold nothing over his heart as he moves forward. He can’t let it. He has his whole life ahead of him, and Nick was just a detour along the way. A wonderful detour if nothing else. He finishes the letter with his “love you”s to them. He addresses the letter and seals the envelope and sticks it with a stamp. He falls asleep after he stashes the stationary and finished letter in his bag. The train is about halfway to Italy.

When he wakes, it’s dark out and the train is pulling up to his stop. He drearily gets out and onto the platform. He offers his passport to the man at the customs stop. A quick once over and he’s free to go. He tucks the letter in the first mailbox he sees outside the train station. It’s a small town and he finds a free room in a rundown hotel by the station to stay for the rest of the night. He’s so exhausted that he can barely keep his eyes open when he gets into the room. Traveling takes a toll on Dylan’s body, and he didn’t get the rest he needed in Paris before traveling down to Italy because of Nick. Oh, Nick. He might have been clingy, but Dylan didn’t anticipate how he might miss him.

He strips his travel soiled clothes and gets into bed. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He wakes with the sun. He blinks as the light filtering in through the light window curtains if they could really be called curtains. They’re more just thin pieces of yellowed fabric with soft patterns that are so faded Dylan can’t make them out. 

He groans and sits up rubbing his eyes. He splashes water on his face in the cramped bathroom before getting dressed for the day. He sleepily hands over his key to the attendant when he walks downstairs. He stops for a pastry and a dark cup of coffee on his way back to the train station. 

As he’s walking, taking in the sights of the quaint town around him, it hits how much he misses Mitch and Mikey and how much he wishes they could see these beautiful places he’s traveling to. He writes another letter to them, or at least the beginnings of one, as he sits at the train station waiting for the new train to pull in and take him to the coast. 

He folds his stationary when it does arrive. He hands over his ticket to the conductor and gets on. The train car is fairly empty, so he has some space to himself. He watches the countryside pass by before pulling out a piece of paper to doodle on. 

The trip to the coast is much quicker than the trip from Paris to Italy. The train stops outside of Venice, where Dylan gets off. Venice is beautiful and just how Dylan thought it would be. He weaves through the streets occasionally stopping at a market stand to buy some food or a trinket he thinks one of his friends would like. 

When he gets down near the port, he decides not to head off to the island today. There’s no particular rush and staying a night in Venice would be fun. 

He gets a room at a small motel near the docks and spends some time resting and washing the travel off himself. He needs to get out somewhere. He’s just been traveling since he met Nick. He wants to have some fun along the way. He changes then goes to get food at a small bar next to a place play loud music and bright, pulsing lights.

Inside, there are enough people for it to feel full without it being claustrophobic. Dylan likes that. It allows him to get close to some cute guys on the dance floor and occasionally pull one off to kiss near the bathrooms.

He’s drunk sooner than he wants to be. He does want to leave tomorrow, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave. He keeps finding reasons to stay: the ability to kiss cute boys no strings attached, no friends to nag him constantly, no true reason to be up tomorrow. So he stays late. 

The stars are bright when he does finally stumble out. He somehow manages to find his way back to the motel without much trouble. He collapses in bed, body exhausted and mind drowsy with alcohol. 

When he wakes, it’s bright out and he can hear birds chirping and waves hitting the rocky shores. He groans rolling over and shoving his face into his pillow. His head hurts. He should’ve known this was coming. He sits up facing away from the window and grabs for the half-empty glass of water on his bedside table. He drains in then stumbles to the bathroom.

He splashes water on his face, shivering at the cold shock. He finds some pain relievers in his travel back and swallows those down. 

He dresses, then rubs the sleep out of his eyes before he goes out to the lobby of the motel. The attendant is sitting at the desk, typing away at a computer. Dylan walks up to the counter and smiles nervously.

The attendant looks up and smiles at Dylan. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering how I can get to Kalokari,” Dylan stammers.

“Oh! There’s a ferry that leaves every day at around 10am.” He glances down at his watch. “That’s in less than 10 minutes. You better go quick if you want to make it!”

Dylan’s eyes widen, and he leaps into action, darting back to his room. He shoves his clothes from the night before in his bag, does a quick once over of the room to make sure he has everything. He grabs the key and his hat last. He drops the key on the counter, along with a small wad of cash to pay for his night in the room and runs to the port. He sees the ferry as he approaches the customs station. He hands over his passport.

“If you could hurry, I have to catch that ferry,” Dylan pants out, setting his hat down on the counter and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

The man gives Dylan a quick look. “Your hair. Is longer now.”

Dylan nods, a little confused. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

The man’s mouth quirks. “I like it shorter.” He stamps the passport and hands in back to Dylan. Dylan thanks the man with a quick smile and nods. He starts off but almost forgets his hat. He takes the two steps back and grabs it, then takes off running after the ferry. It starts to pull away from the dock when he’s halfway to the boat.

“Wait!” he screams! “Wait!” He comes to a stop where the ferry once was. He sighs, the boat not turning around or coming to a stop.

“Wow, I could have a whole new wardrobe if I just followed you around for a day.”

Dylan whips around at the voice. Behind him is standing an absolute god of a man, not that he’d ever tell him that. He’s several inches shorter than Dylan but so hot, with tanned skin and dark brown hair and the smattering of facial hair in the beginnings of a beard. In his hands are two pairs of underwear and tank top of Dylan’s. He quickly swipes them out of his hands.

“You should probably pack your bag a little bit better,” the man says, with a quirked smile before jumping onto a gorgeous sailboat on the other side of the dock.

Dylan looks at him with confusion as he stuffs the clothes into his suitcase and zipping it up tightly. “I really wanted to catch that ferry,” he sighs.

“There’ll be another tomorrow,” he says from the boat.

“But what would be really great today, not tomorrow, is if somewhere in this harbor there was a guy,” Dylan starts.

“A young and devilishly handsome guy?” the man supplies.

“Maybe mildly passable at best. But he had a boat!” Dylan says walking close to the sailboat.

“And a couple of days free before he takes part in a sailing competition!” the man says, catching on.

“Yes! And maybe he could take me where I need to go!”

“Yes! But,” the man turns to face Dylan, puts his hands behind his back and hangs his head, “unfortunately this… this isn’t my boat. I just wanted to impress you.”

Dylan makes a face, pauses then stands up with a disgruntled look on his face. “Okay,” he chuckles disheartened.

He turns halfway around and closes his eyes when the man says, “I’m kidding. Jump aboard!”

Dylan turns to gauge the guy’s face and sees honesty, so he picks up his bags and hops onto the sailboat.

The guy smiles at him and holds out his hand. “Welcome aboard. I’m Alex.”

Dylan sets one bag down to shake Alex’s hand. “Dylan.”

“Well, Dylan. Where is our destination?”

“Kalokari,” Dylan says.

“Wonderful. Get your things below, and we will be ready to set sail shortly.”

Dylan takes his things below the deck, chuckling to himself. Alex was very forward, risking a lot to put his sexual preferences out there so blatantly for Dylan to observe. Not that he would sleep with Alex. He’s already had the foreign fling. He can’t do another. No matter how dashing and charming he may be.

When he returns to the deck, Alex is tying the last of the ropes to the boat. He looks up and smiles at Dylan. “Ready to go?” he asks. Dylan nods. Alex grabs his wrist with his free hand. In his other hand is a thick rope. He backs them both up then lets the rope drop, letting the sail drop as well. Alex hops up to the steering wheel and sails them out the harbor towards a tiny island barely visible from where they are.

“So,” Alex starts, turn his head towards Dylan but keeping his hands on the wheel, “what brings you out here?”

“I needed to escape. This seemed the best place to do it.”

“Escape?” Alex asks head cocked to the side. “Escape from what?”

“You know. The usual. Parents who don’t understand,” Dylan says, mildly sarcastically with a flare of his hands for emphasis.

“Don’t really want to talk about it?” Alex asks.

Dylan shakes his head. “No. It’s what everyone asks and it’s not the story I want to tell anyone first. Too depressing.”

Alex nods. “I understand. So, what do you want to tell people when you first meet them? What is the thing you want to talk about?”

Dylan thinks for a moment. He knows the answer, but he wants to make it sound good and not just like he’s running away without a plan. Which is in essence what he’s doing. But he wants it to sound better than that. “I want to talk about where I’m going, what I plan to do.”

“And what is that?” Alex asks.

“I’m going to one of the most beautiful places on Earth to find out exactly what it is I’m meant to do on this Earth because it certainly isn’t back where I came from,” Dylan says definitively.

“That’s quite a statement,” Alex says, almost in awe.

Dylan nods. “I just feel this place calling me like nothing else. Like there’s something there I’m supposed to be doing, but I don’t know what it is because I’m not there yet.”

Alex smiles like he’s in on some secret. “I know what you mean.”

Dylan takes a deep, centering breath. It’s good to have that confirmation, even if it is from essentially a stranger.

“Now,” Alex says turning to face Dylan, a hand on the wheel, “about the sleeping situation.” He raises an eyebrow then winks at Dylan.

Dylan looks pointedly at Alex. “You better have two beds.”

“Aww come on. You’re telling me that you don’t want to sleep with all of this?” Alex asks, motioning downward at himself.

Dylan shakes his head. “I’m saying I don’t do that. Not usually anyway.”

Alex quirks a smile. “Then what’s the harm in making an exception?”

Dylan is about to respond when he hears a shout. Alex hears it too because they both turn toward the sound. Out in the sea is a man on a small fishing boat. It has a small motor in the back and paddles on both sides. The man is yelling at them and waving his hands.

Dylan walks over to the side of the sailboat and yells back, “What?”

“You must help me!” the man calls back. “I need to get to shore!”

His voice is thick with the Greek accent, but Dylan can parse it out. He looks back at Alex.

“I’m so sorry!” Alex calls back. “We are headed away from shore, but I will call the coast guard and they will come get you!”

“No! You don’t understand! You see, the love of my life is about to get married to a man she does not love. And she loves me, Alexio. And I must go to her so she does not marry, big horrible man that her family wants.”

Alex blinks.

“Oh come on,” Dylan begs.

Alex side-eyes Dylan before nodding slightly and going to kneel at the side of the boat. Alexio paddles up and together, Alex and Dylan haul him up. They tie his broken fishing boat to the back end of Alex’s sailboat. Alex turns the sails and turns back toward the mainland, but not toward the harbor upon Alexio’s request.

“She will not be at the harbor,” he says. “She will be going to her wedding. I know where it is. I show you!”

He guides them around an island to where he points at a woman in a long wedding gown surrounded by many men in tuxedos. “Appelonia!” he calls before jumping off the side of the boat.

“We can get you closer!” Alex calls after him.

“If you truly love someone you’re willing to die for them!” Alexio calls back, clearly struggling in the water.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to! There’s a distinct difference!” Alex calls back.

“Alexio?” Appleonia asks from the shore. She shouts his name again and runs to the edge of the stone dock and jumps in after him.

Dylan is smiling and laughing. This is the kind of love he’s wanted all his life, from his siblings, from his friends, from his parents, and maybe someday, a boy. This is the love he dreamed of.

“Oh… oh shit. She can’t swim either.” Alex strips off his shirt and kicks his shoes aside to dive in after them.

Dylan rolls his eyes at his fearlessness and screams at the top of his lungs. Alex gets both back to shore without any injuries. Dylan is waiting on the boat with a towel for Alex to dry off with.

Alex smirks. “Why thank you, my love.”

Dylan rolls his eyes and hands over the towel.

“Are you not going to tend to me?” Alex asks, wrapping up in the towel as he says so.

Dylan shakes his head. “I think you’ll manage fine on your own.

Alex smiles. “Well, thanks.”

Dylan doesn’t know how he continues to flirt with Dylan despite how many roadblocks Dylan (at least thinks) he’s putting up. He’s relentless, or just a flirt and doesn’t really care if he gets Dylan into his bed tonight.

Dylan is laying in his bed. It’s mildly lumpy and pretty uncomfortable. He’d seen Alex’s bed. It looked much better, and was easily a Queen or King size, compared to Dylan’s little twin, if you could even call it that. It wasn’t even really a bed, more like a couch area on one side of the area below deck. If Dylan is being honest with himself, he knows he’s not going to sleep any on this bed. He should really just admit defeat and go to Alex. He really doesn’t want to though. Not because he doesn’t want to sleep with Alex. He knows that would be good. Alex seems like just his type and would make it fun, so fun. But the problem is trying to figure out how to go over there without sounding incredibly desperate and sad. Alex would probably turn him away if he just went in there, puppy dog eyes and sad face begging for Alex to fuck him. Yeah… that’s not the route Dylan wants to go. It hasn’t been that long. Not really. He could just go initiate a cool conversation, but what would he talk about? Thank Alex for his hospitality? That’s probably just as desperate, just a little more subtle. Ugh. Fuck it. He’s just going to go over there and see how things go.

He rolls off the bed and patters over to the thin, sliding door that separates him from Alex. It’s so thin, Alex, if he’s awake, probably knows Dylan is outside his door. That means he can’t dawdle too long waiting to open the door. He takes a deep breath, leans against the door frame, and slides the door open.

Alex is laying back on the bed, hands behind his head, not really doing anything. His eyes widen and he sits up, letting his arms fall to his side when he sees Dylan.

Dylan stares at him for a moment, but when it becomes clear that Alex isn’t going to have the first word, he clears his throat. “I… uhh, just wanted to thank you for…” he has to swallow nervously before continuing, “letting me stay on your boat and taking me to where I need to go.”

Alex smiles. “It’s my pleasure. But anyone would’ve done the same thing.”

Dylan shakes his head. “No, not anyone.”

Alex considers it a moment. “No, I suppose not. Only good people.”

“And you’re good people?” Dylan asks.

“I like to think so,” Alex says. He leans back on his palms, making him more open to Dylan. “Why don’t you tell me what you think?”

Dylan hesitates a moment, to see if Alex means what Dylan thinks he does. When Alex raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say what are you waiting for, Dylan crosses the short distance to Alex’s bed and falls in with him. Alex caresses Dylan’s head, cradling the back on his neck at the same time, before kissing him. It’s everything Dylan wanted. He is soft and gentle. He takes care of Dylan as he kisses him. Dylan falls onto his forearms and holds his weight there are Alex slowly leans back. Somehow it deepens the kiss in a way Dylan never imagined. It is electric. It feels better than any kiss he’d ever had before. Alex guides him into the kiss, the thumb of one hand coaxing his mouth open, the other finding its way into his hair to tug and scratch in all the right ways. Dylan moans into the kiss allowing more room for Alex to explore in his mouth. Dylan lets his hips drop so he can get some friction, and it only makes him moan again. Alex is just as hard as he is, and through two pairs of sleep pants he might’ve thought he wouldn’t have been able to tell exactly how good it felt, but he felt it deep in his stomach. 

Alex tugs him closer with the hand on his neck and Dylan goes, allowing himself to drop lower, push his hips into Alex’s. His hand moves from Dylan’s hair to Dylan’s shoulder to Dylan’s back, scratching lightly as he goes. It gets the littlest hitches out of Dylan’s hips, pushing them closer and closer together. 

“Is this okay?” Alex pants as his hands dip below the waistband of Dylan’s sleep pants.

Dylan nods, murmuring “yes” into Alex’s mouth before going back in for another kiss.

Alex lets his fingers linger just on the swell of Dylan’s ass as they kiss. Dylan whines into Alex’s mouth. Nothing more than a high noise, but it gets Alex to chuckle and let his finger brush against his hole. Dylan’s breath stutters. He breaks away from Alex’s mouth and pushes his face in the crease of Alex’s neck and shoulder. He humps Alex’s leg as Alex toys with his hole. Never really pushing in, but circling it, teasing it to the point where Dylan thinks he might come like this. 

Then, out of nowhere, Alex grips both of Dylan’s shoulders and rolls them. Dylan gasps at the sudden movement. Alex is smirking above him, planted on Dylan’s hips. He quickly pulls Dylan’s and his own sleep pants down, and they are naked. Skin touching skin, and it’s the most incredible Dylan has ever felt during sex. Alex strokes their cocks together, pulling a long moan from both of them at the contact. 

Alex leans down over Dylan and gives him a quick peck on the lips. He, then, reaches over Dylan to the bedside table and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Get a lot of action at sea?” Dylan asks more breathless than teasing.

Alex chuckles. “Quite the opposite, actually, despite the specimen you see before you.” They both break out into giggles for a moment. “It’s why I go through more lube than condoms.”

He slicks up his fingers and scoots down so he’s positioned behind Dylan. With his dry hand, he grabs a pillow, and Dylan lifts his hips for Alex to put it under him. It gives Alex a better angle to see and when he gets a finger in Dylan, a better angle to open him. The first finger is like lightning, touching Dylan in so many places. It’s like Alex knows exactly where to push and when to pull out. A second finger is added soon after and that’s is even better. The stretch of Alex scissoring his fingers is so phenomenal Dylan can’t do anything but moan. He pushes his hips down, trying to get more… of what he doesn’t know. But he just wants more. Wants more of Alex. Wants to feel more. Wants fucking more goddamn it. Then, Alex adds a third finger and Dylan can’t keep his eyes open any longer. He can see fireworks exploding behind his eyelids. He feels the warmth building in his stomach.

“If you don’t stop now, you’re not going to be able to get your dick inside me,” Dylan grunts.

“Do you want that?” Alex asks. It’s more teasing than disbelief, but the caution is still there stirring the undercurrents. 

Dylan nods frantically. There’s nothing else he could possibly want in this moment. 

Alex smiles. He pulls his fingers out and Dylan tries not to whine at the loss. It doesn’t seem he’s successful by the look Alex gives him. But Alex rolls the condom on quickly, and only rubs lube onto it in three quick strokes. He sets himself behind Dylan and pauses. Dylan can feel him there, the girth, the head, ready to go. 

“Please!” he whines. 

That’s all the encouragement Alex needs. He pushes in slowly. Dylan’s body gives way to him easily. The slide is almost unbearable with how bad Dylan wants Alex inside of him. Alex pauses once more when he’s fully sheathed inside of Dylan. Dylan just sighs. It feels so good to be full like this. Alex fills him in just the right way. He’s not too long and just wide enough that Dylan feels the stretch. 

Then, Alex is pulling out and pounding into Dylan over and over again. He grips Dylan’s wrists, keeping them pinned above his head. All Dylan can do it pants and moan and feel his cock drip out onto his stomach as Alex’s pace never slows, only increases. 

Dylan screams when Alex hits his prostate more than just right, and he’s striping his stomach and chest in his own seed. He clenches down on Alex inside him. Alex grunts and buckles catching himself on his forearms. Dylan can feel the heat as Alex comes inside the condom. Some cum dumb part of his brain almost wishes there was no condom to keep the heat from spilling inside of him. 

Alex falls next to Dylan and curls around him, arm falling on Dylan’s sticky chest. But Dylan loves cuddles, and he’s never going to turn them down, especially after an absolute perfect fucking like that.

Alex gets up after a while to find a cloth and some water. He towels them down then curls right back up with Dylan. He’s shorter, and shorter still when he curls his legs into Dylan’s. Dylan doesn’t mind being the little spoon. It’s nice sometimes with his height. So he lets Alex tuck his nose into his neck and falls asleep in his arms. 

It doesn’t take long to reach the island, once it’s morning. Alex docks and ties off the boat, without the general care Dylan had seen when they left the morning before. It’s likely because he’s just dropping him off here and will be off again in moments.

“This is really where you’re staying?” Alex asks, skeptically, glancing up the island.

Dylan smiles broadly. “This is where I belong. I can feel it.”

Alex nods slowly. He’s looking at the sky, the wind blowing his hair back. “Be careful. There’s a storm headed in.”

Dylan squints in confusion at the clear and bright sky. “But, it’s a clear sky!” he exclaims.

“Trust me,” Alex says. “Well, don’t,” he says as an afterthought. “But I know I’m right.”

Dylan shrugs. “Well, good luck with your sailing competition.”

A flip switches and Alex goes back to his smiling self. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Dylan smiles, apricating the care. He waves as he Alex gets back onto his boat, untying its moorings. He collects his things and walks up the dock without a second thought or a look back.


	3. Chapter Three

From where they docked, the island looks fairly deserted. Dylan drags his bags up a hill where he finds a similarly deserted farmhouse. It doesn’t look too worn down. It could use a new coat of paint on the outside and maybe some new railings. The teal paint on the door is cracked and peeling. He opens it carefully. Some of the paint flakes off onto his skin.

He puts his bags just inside to go explore. It’s beautiful in its own charm. He walks to a room just off to the side. It’s all smooth clay and brick with carefully laid stone floors. The fireplace in the corner is round and has some steel pots sitting around it. There’s a smattering of furniture, a chair, a table, a few stools, and a pillow. It’s dark with the shutters closed. The little light that filters through shines on the dust floating in the air. Dylan goes over to the window and pushes it open to look at the view from up there. It's gorgeous. The whole house it up much higher than he thought, and it looks out over the ocean, lapping at the craggy shores. Off to the side, there’s an orchard of some kind, clearly unkempt. Weeds grow and there’s fruit on the ground.

Suddenly, there’s a crack and one of the shutters falls off its hinges and onto the porch just outside. Dylan grimaces and walks away, unsure if he can really do anything. The stairs are around the corner and he comes to the realization that he entered the back. He takes them down, but the railing falls apart under his hands. His eyes widen and he darts down. The stairs splinter under his feet and fall sideways, only partial attached to the side anymore.

The area on the main level is huge. The rooms open easily to one another. He finds himself in the kitchen. There’s a tall table in the middle with an assortment of utensils and things laying around. The stove is mostly just a large fireplace and the sink doesn’t run water.

In the room next to the kitchen, there’s a simple bed pushed up against the wall with a small side table and rickety chair next to it. There’s another table, smaller and lower to the ground than the one in the kitchen with two chairs scattered around it.

Dylan smiles. It’s small. It’s quaint. It needs work, but it’s a place to start. It doesn’t seem like anyone lives there. There’s nothing to suggest there has been anything living for some time. Dylan goes out of the main level door and up the hill to grab his bags. The stairs are too much of a risk at the moment. He might be able to fix them in the coming days. And that’s only if he can find some spare wood, hammer, and nails laying around somewhere.

He sets his bags near the bed and goes to explore some of the other buildings around the property. There are several smaller buildings, more run-down than the main house. He’s going down the stairs (baked clay building into the ground rather than creaky wood) of what seems to be an old barn when it starts to rain. There’s a loud crack of thunder and as if on command, the sky opens and pours down. Dylan tips his head to the sky where the rain is dripping in from the old wood boards of the roof. He lets the water hit his face for a moment before he continues.

He gets almost all the way into the ground floor of the barn when he hears whinnying. He pauses, almost unsure if he truly did hear it. Then, the sound comes again, and Dylan darts off in its direction. He slows when he comes into an opening. A dark-haired horse is tied to a worn down, wooden fence. The rope looks frade and unstable. Dylan can see the whites of the horse’s eyes as his huffs at him.

“Oh, sweetie,” Dylan coos.

Another clap of thunder breaks through the air, sending the horse into a panic. It rears up and kicks its front feet into the air. The strength of the horse and how it pulls at his lead causes part of the roof to collapse between Dylan and the horse.

“Hang on! I’m going to go get help! I’ll be back I promise!” Dylan goes back up the barn stairs and running down the hill, hoping it takes him to a town where he can find another person to possibly help him with this horse.

He’s halfway down, soaked to the bone, when a motorcycle comes up the hill. It stops near him. The man on it has blond hair and is the most gorgeous man Dylan has ever met. Not that it matters right now.

“Can you help me? There’s a horse!” he shouts through the rain.

The man nods. “Get on the back!”

Dylan scrambles to get on behind him. He drives them up the hill and Dylan points at the barn. The man stops the bike and pair run down the stairs.

The horse is still bucking, whinnying and frightened. Dylan climbs over the fallen beams followed closely by the man.

“I’ll calm it down, if you can grab its halter,” Dylan suggests.

The guy nods. “What’s the halter?”

Dylan sighs. “Just talk calmly.” He moves onto the other side of the horse, so the guy can distract it.

“It’s okay. I know, it’s scary. I’d rather be dry right now too. But, if it came down to a choice between going home and helping you then…” he pauses looking at Dylan who is carefully coming up beside the startled horse. Dylan grabs the halter quickly while the guy puts his hands around the nose of the horse to keep it from bucking, “there’s no choice at all.” He strokes the horse’s forehead as Dylan comes around to him, halter in hand.

Dylan locks eyes with him and smiles. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Of course. Is he yours?”

Dylan shakes his head. “I’m not sure who he belongs to. This place seems abandoned.”

The guy nods, knowingly. “Most places are here are. It’s a hard land to live.”

There’s a beat, while the two of them are just stroking the horse. “I’m Connor, by the way,” the guy says holding out a hand.

“Dylan.” He takes Connor’s hand and shakes it once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you. Now, do you think we should try to get this fallen beam out of here?” Connor asks, looking at the beam between them and the stairs.

Dylan shrugs. “It’s still raining. I think it can wait.”

Connor nods. “You’re probably right.” He pauses. “I know a good place in town for a drink if you want to brave the storm.”

Dylan smiles. “That sounds like a great idea to me.”

“Wonderful. Come with me.” Connor hops out of the horse’s pen and starts out of the barn. Dylan quickly reties the horse’s halter more securely this time, soothes him a bit more, before following Connor up the stairs.

They ride Connor’s motorcycle down the hill and into a quaint town stacked with buildings and people running from the rain. The thunder and lightning have stopped by now, the torrential rain has yet to slow. They duck into the nearest tavern to get food and drinks. The bartender is a cute old woman with bright clothing. She smiles at them handing them each a drink and a sandwich. Dylan leads Connor over to a table near the front of a stage inside the bar. On the stage is probably the worst band Dylan has ever heard in his entire life, but he’d never say that out loud, especially not in their establishment. Also, just because they’re horrible doesn’t mean Dylan doesn’t love them. Their whole aesthetic is kind of a representation of his life. They’re trying so hard and failing but loving what they’re doing anyway.

“So,” Connor says leaning forward in his chair to be closer to Dylan over the table, “where are you from and what brings you all the way out here?”

Dylan takes a bite of his sandwich before answering. “My parents were never proud of anything I did, never really noticed, actually, so I decided to see if they’d notice if I traveled halfway across the globe.”

Connor laughs. “That’s quite the experiment.”

Dylan smiles while shaking his head. “Not really. They won’t notice. They never do.”

“You’re risking a lot on that assumption,” Connor says carefully.

Dylan shrugs. “So, I go home if they tell me I have to. But at least I made it out here.” Dylan’s heart flutters when Connor smiles. It’s like a fond sort of smile that Dylan only associates with his friends and occasionally Ryan. It’s not something he’s ever seen from a boy he likes, so maybe this is a fluke, or it doesn’t mean what he thinks it does. It doesn’t stop his stomach from flipping and his heart beating a mile a minute. He tries to hide it behind his glass as he takes a sip. “What about you? I wanna hear your story.” He puts his glass down carefully trying not slosh it everywhere when he does.

“This is kind of…” Connor takes a breath, thinking, “my escape, I guess. I’ve kind of ran away.”

Dylan gives him a pointed look. Hypocrite.

Connor ignores him moving on with his story. “My dad is expecting me back sooner rather than later to start work with a prestigious architecture company.”

Dylan wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, I bet that’ll be fun.”

Connor scoffs. “Boring job in a life of short hair and suits? I don’t think so.”

“Do you have to keep your hair short for the job?” Dylan asks surprised.

Connor shakes his head. “Not really, but my dad expects me to keep my hair maintained and it’s certainly far from that now.”

Dylan looks at him considering. It is brushed and washed. At least, it looks clean. “It looks maintained now.”

“Not to my dad’s standards,” Connor said shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m enjoying my freedom until I have to go back to the perfect plan my dad has laid out for me.”

Dylan hums and takes a swig of beer. He doesn’t think he’d want a fully programmed life by his parents. That’s basically what Ryan had, and Dylan doesn’t think he could handle it. It’s a lot of work.

The band finishes a song, and so Dylan claps and hoots loudly in the empty bar. The bandmates smile, happy for the recognition. He chuckles. “I am definitely staying here.” He takes another sip of his beer while Connor gives him that stupid, fond smile again.

Connor glances over at the door where the rain has let up and the sun has started to set. “We should go watch the sunset.”

Dylan blinks at him for a moment. That’s a date thing. This gorgeous, rich boy just asked him to do a date thing. This can’t be real. “Yeah, okay.” The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he just said.

“Great.” Connor’s smile is so wide and bright, Dylan thinks he might go blind. Connor offers Dylan his hand when he stands. Dylan takes it and pulls himself out of his chair. Connor doesn’t let go as he heads toward the door. Dylan feels his heart leap up into his throat.

They go to a spot high above the village, kind of sitting on someone’s roof, but it’s also kind of a hill so they think it’s okay. Dylan’s sure the sunset is beautiful, but he can’t stop looking at Connor. Not with how beautiful he is, not with the honest way he’s approached everything about today.

The sun is gone before Dylan is ready for it to be. It’s getting cold as the light leaves the sky.

Connor sighs. “We should probably head back. It’ll be too chilly to stay out for much longer.”

Dylan nods, sad and a little lethargic. He doesn’t know if he’ll get to see Connor again if their relationship goes beyond here and now. They slowly get up together. They hold hands as they walk down to where they left Connor’s bike. It’s quiet in town. Everyone has gone home for dinner with their families. Connor kicks the bike into gear once Dylan has settled behind him and drives them up the hill to the farmhouse. Connor stops at the bottom of the property. He helps Dylan off his bike. They stay like that for a moment, staring at one another.

“Come up with me?” Dylan asks, with a shrug of one shoulder.

Connor hesitates.

“It’s probably got a better bed than whatever your sleeping in now,” Dylan says. He doesn’t know that for sure, but he has to ask. He can’t let this get away from him. He won’t let it. Dylan smiles when he sees Connor’s resistance crumble and he chuckles.

Connor nods. “Okay.”

Dylan leads Connor up the hill, not letting go of his hand. They stop just outside the farmhouse. Dylan can’t tell if Connor is going to kiss him or not, but he wants to kiss Connor. He wants to kiss him so bad. So, he leans in and kisses him. He’s not going to let this one get away, god damn it. And to his surprise, Connor kisses back. He pulls him in with a hand on the back of his neck and kisses him like his life depends on it. They stumble into the farmhouse. Connor keeps kissing Dylan on his neck, hands on Dylan’s hips while Dylan tries to find the bedroom he’d been in once. It’s more difficult than he’d imagined it would be, through the haze of Connor kissing him senseless prior and now with him sucking what will be an impressive hickey tomorrow.  
They do find the bed. Connor pushes Dylan down onto it. Dylan blinks up at Connor in awe as Connor strips off his shirt. Dylan licks his lips, wishing, hoping he can do that to Connor’s abs. 

When Connor starts to undo the buckle of his pants, Dylan’s mouth goes dry. He’s never been like this with anyone else. Everyone else it’s been sex, and just that. But here, now, Dylan feels… he’s not sure. But it’s not the same. It’s better, a lot better. He wants to feel like this every time the person he’s about to get some from just undressing. 

Connor shoves his pants down and steps out of them. The bulge in his underwear makes Dylan’s mouth water with want. He wants to put his mouth on it, wants to let Connor fuck his face with it, let Connor fuck his very being out with it. 

Dylan must make a noise because Connor smirks down at him. “Like what you see?”

Dylan can’t do anything more than nod. 

Connor smiles at him again. He gets his hands up Dylan’s shirt. All Dylan can think to do is lift his hands and let Connor have his way with him. Connor hums when he tosses Dylan’s shirt aside. Dylan’s breathe stutters when Connor’s hands run up and down his sides. 

“You’re so…” Connor starts but he doesn’t finish, his words trailing off into a breathy sigh. 

Dylan practically whimpers. He surges up and presses his mouth against Connor’s. Connor moans into it and lets his hand cup the back of Dylan’s head. Dylan swears he can feel his heart stuttering in his chest. He’s positive sex has never been filled with such feelings for him before tonight. He didn’t know it could be like this. 

Connor leans forward pushing them onto the bed, still kissing Dylan while he does it. Dylan’s first thought is holy shit, this guy. His second thought is, he has this guy in bed. Holy shit. 

He finally gets his head about him and gets his hands on Connor. He grabs onto Connor’s hips and holds tight. He’s not sure he ever wants to let go. 

They kiss for a long while longer, exploring one another with lips and tongues and hands. Dylan’s never felt more turned on in his life. He’s also never felt less interested in coming than spending attention on his bed partner, so there’s that. 

He starts to hitch his hips against Connor, honestly without realizing that he is. He opens his eyes when he feels Connor’s hands at his hips. He blinks at Connor for a few moments before he realizes what’s happening and why Connor’s not kissing him anymore. Then, there’s a hand yanking his dick out of his pants and the need to come is there. 

He pants, staring into Connor’s beautiful green eyes. How did he not notice Connor’s eyes like this before? Holy shit they’re pretty. 

He gasps. Oh fuck. There’s a hand and a dick against his own. They’re both so slick, been on edge for a while and not really doing anything about it. Now, it’s like lightning, wherever Connor touches him, even his dick, especially his dick. He feels spread out, vulnerable, and so, so happy. He never wants Connor to stop touching him. He scrambles for something to hold onto, his nails scratching against Connor’s back. Connor hisses into his neck but doesn’t stop Dylan or move to do so. 

Eventually, Dylan’s fingers card into Connor’s hair and latch on. Connor drops his head to the cut of Dylan's collar bone. He puts his lips there and suck. Hard. Dylan moans and comes as Connor strokes them through it. Only moments later does Connor grunt and more heat spills onto Dylan’s stomach. 

Connor pulls away gently and licks carefully at the bruise he’s left on Dylan’s shoulder.

Dylan whines when he stands but is sated a moment later when he climbs back on the bed with a washcloth. Dylan winces at the cold but doesn’t really know how it would’ve been warm. 

Connor curls up against Dylan’s chest after they’re all cleaned up. He hums softly and kisses Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan cards his fingers through Connor’s hair. It’s a shame his father is going to make him cut it all off whenever he has to go back. It’s really wonderful hair, even now, sweat soaked and smelly from sex. Dylan knows it’s crazy, but he wants to hold Connor like this and play with his hair forever. Maybe he can keep him for a little longer anyway, if not forever.


	4. Chapter Four

Dylan wakes up before Connor. He smiles when he looks down at him. He’s as gorgeous as Dylan remembers. He’s still laying half on Dylan, so Dylan reaches out and cards through Connor’s wonderful hair again. Connor makes a grumbling noise in his sleep and turns so he’s splayed across the bed rather than across Dylan. He takes the opening to grab his stationary so he can write to his friends.

He tells them about Connor, and how hot he is, and that he’s an architect. He talks about how he’s already fallen for him and how he’s not sure if he gets to keep him. He tells them about the gorgeous farmhouse, or at least how nice it would be if it were fixed up. It’d even make a good hotel, or ya know, an inn or something.

When he leans over to put the letter in an envelope, Connor stirs. Dylan puts the letter away and quickly scribbles out his old address where his friends still live.

“Well, good morning sunshine,” Dylan says, draping his arm over the back of the bed so Connor can sit up.

Connor smiles up at him. “That’s a nice sight to wake up to,” he says, his voice still thick and gravelly with sleep. It turns Dylan on and maybe it shouldn’t. He must blush because Connor’s eyes cut down to where Dylan is starting to tent the blanket. Connor wiggles his eyebrows in the least seductive way possible and pulls the blanket over his head as he squirms down to where he proceeds to give Dylan the most mind-blowing blow job of his life.

When he resurfaces, he’s wiping his lips with the pad of his thumb before sticking it into his mouth.

Dylan groans and rests his head on the wall behind him. “That is the best way to start the morning, by far.”

“Yeah?” Connor asks, smacking a kiss to the cut of Dylan’s chin.

“Ew,” Dylan says wiping at the sticky spot with the back of his hand.

“What do you want to do today?” Connor asks leaning so his head rests on Dylan’s shoulder.

“I don’t know. Something fun, adventurous,” Dylan says with a sigh.

“Literally anything we do on this island is going to be adventurous,” Connor says.

“So, pick something,” Dylan says. “Pick something you haven’t done yet since you’ve been here longer than me.”

Connor thinks for a minute, then his face falls to an expression that could only be described as full of mischief. And that’s how they end up on a small rowboat heading for nowhere in particular. Dylan tries and fails to hold in his laughter as Connor rows the boat farther from shore. It’s more of a useless flailing of paddles somehow managing to time them together, than actual rowing.

“So what exactly is it that we’re doing?” Dylan asks.

“Going for a picnic,” Connor says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Where’s the food?” Dylan asks, rolling his eyes and smiling.

“You’re going to catch it,” Connor says.

Dylan’s eyes go wide as he looks into the bottom of the boat. There’s not really anything to catch fish with. Just some old fishing line and an old lure with what looks like some mold growing on it. Dylan’s not sure. He grabs at the old line taking a deep breath. Now would be the time to tell Connor the feelings he’s starting to struggle with. He knows it’s probably too soon. They’ve only known each other a day after all. But Dylan feels the clock ticking with Connor’s intimidating job back wherever he’ll go home to. He needs to say this now.

He looks up at Connor, still kind of flailing with the paddles. “So…” Dylan starts, clearing his throat. “We haven’t talked about last night.”

Connor stops rowing. “No…”

“You should know… I don’t really… I don’t really hook up, that often, anymore,” Dylan says, stumbling over his words, trying to find the right ones. He doesn’t want to scare Connor with some of the things he’s done more recently, because that’s not him anymore, and whether good or bad, he is falling for him, and it doesn’t feel like there’s anything he can do except tell Connor and hope he stays.

Connor smiles and starts rowing again. “I thought it was miraculous.”

Dylan is taken aback. He bites his lip as he smiles and looks down into the boat.

“I need you to listen, and don’t interrupt me, because it’s going to seem crazy at first, but by the end you’ll realize that I’m right. And then you’ll spend the rest of your life thanking me for getting right to it.”

Connor grimaces slightly, almost as if bracing himself. “Alright, I’m ready,” he says carefully.

“I wasn’t joking yesterday. I was serious. I want to stay here. And I think you should too. I think we should make a choice, to do something radical and wonderful, to live in this extraordinary place with someone…” Dylan pauses thinking of the word he wants to use. “With someone miraculous,” he finishes finally. He watches Connor, his face unreadable. He sighs. “I knew you’d think it was crazy.”

Connor smiles, not quite as big as Dylan’s seen, but a smile nonetheless and shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s crazy.”

Dylan lights up. “You don’t?”

Connor shakes his head.

“That’ll do, for now,” Dylan says nodding. This is good. This is the start. It’s baby steps, and he really shouldn’t expect more than that.

Connor is able to row them over to a small island not far from the one they were on. He gets out and pulls the boat onto shore in a small, secluded cove. He offers his hand to help Dylan out of the boat. Dylan takes it with a smile.

They sit on the beach until Dylan decides it’s too hot and they strip down to their shorts and dive into the water together. Dylan comes up first looking for Connor. He doesn’t see him at first. That is until Connor lunges up from behind him and tackles them both back into the water. Dylan comes up laughing this time, still somehow wrapped in Connor’s arms. Dylan tilts his head up at Connor who beams down at him, long, dirty blond hair in thick strands across his face and eyes. Dylan can’t help but wrap his fingers in the wet hair at the nape of Connor’s neck and pull him down into a kiss. It’s not a long kiss, but it’s a sweet one. It’s the kind Dylan thinks would be given to someone you really cared about, not someone you just met a day or ago.

Connor is still smiling when Dylan opens his eyes again.

“What?” Dylan asks.

Connor shakes his head. “Nothing. I just like to see you smile.”

Dylan can feel the blush on his cheeks, so he pushes them both back into the water to cover it up.

After they get back to the house and dried off, Connor drives them down into town for dinner. They sit in Dylan’s favorite diner, while his favorite band plays drinking and eating to their hearts’ content.

“You know,” Dylan says as he leans back in his chair. He’s finished eating and pleasantly buzzed from the beers, with another dangling from his fingers. “That farm would make a gorgeous hotel.”

“Yeah?” Connor asks. He takes a swig of what must be his fifth beer.

“Can’t you imagine it?” Dylan asks. “If the stairs were fixed and the rooms cleaned up, it would be just beautiful.”

Connor smiles lazily at Dylan. “I can imagine it if you can.”

Dylan rolls his eyes. “You’re the architect!” he exclaims.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Connor asks accusingly.

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to see how a building can be its most beautiful? Isn’t that your job?”

Connor looks at him, considering. His face is fond. It’s making Dylan squirm.

“What?” Dylan asks.

Connor just shakes his head. “Is that really what you think my job is?”

Dylan shrugs.

“Because I’ve never heard someone describe it that way.” Connor looks like something is clicking in his mind and more importantly like Dylan hung the moon. He sets his beer down and grabs one of the bar napkins and starts scribbling on it.

“What are you doing?” Dylan asks, leaning forward to look.

“Designing that hotel,” Connor says with determination.

So, Dylan watches him work. It’s the most beautiful and inspiring thing Dylan’s ever seen. Not the hotel by any means, but Connor and his passion. Dylan wants this forever, and his heart hurts a little bit with the idea it might not happen.

They’re days go like this for the next week. They wake up together in the little house. They find odd things to do, new places to explore, adventures to be had. Occasionally they fix things around the farmhouse, like the shutter that fell the first day Dylan was here. They have dinner together, and Dylan watches Connor continue to work on their imagined hotel. 

Dylan sends Mitch and Mikey letters every other day, telling them everything about life on his little island, including Connor. He tells them they should come out. He misses his friends and wants them to see this beautiful place he’s found. He wants Connor to meet them. They’re way more important than meeting his family, not that he’d ever speak to his family again. (Except maybe Ryan.) The little house they’ve been living in has slowly accumulated things, beginning to look like their place. Connor built himself a little desk out of some driftwood and felled trees in the orchard where he plans their hotel daily. Pictures from his camera have been strung on a thin rope along the walls. It’s really becoming theirs. And so, life is perfect. So, it’s only a matter of time before something hits. Dylan knows that. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He doesn’t really know when Connor is supposed to leave, and he doesn’t really know if Connor is planning on leaving for staying. They haven’t discussed it again.

Dylan wakes up early to a light wind on his face and the soft sunlight of its rise streaming in. Connor is still asleep beside him, face nestled in Dylan’s side. Dylan cards his fingers through Connor’s ever-growing hair. It’s soft. They took a shower together the night before. Dylan could spend hours playing with Connor’s hair, wet or dry.

Outside he can see the fruit that has been growing ever steadily all summer. He could make breakfast, maybe even before Connor wakes up. He carefully pulls himself out of Connor’s arms. Connor sighs and readjusts when Dylan is out of bed. He gets dressed in the room next to theirs, so he doesn’t wake Connor up.

The morning is beautiful when Dylan steps outside. The air isn’t too hot yet, and he can smell the sweet sea by the cliffs below. He takes a basket from the kitchen and goes to get what fruit he can find. The orchard is growing a lot of sweet fruit this time of year, and it only expands on Dylan’s vision of a hotel here. The hotel could be what binds him and Connor here. They could build it together, run it, grow old together. It makes Dylan’s heart warm just thinking about it. Dylan hopes when his friends arrive this week, Connor will understand what he means to Dylan and make the choice Dylan has been praying he’ll make.

He collects the fruit, almost skipping through the orchard because he feels so happy in this moment. He wishes he could bottle this feeling to keep whenever he feels down or sad about anything. He’d never feel put down by his parents again. He’d only be this in love. Wouldn’t it be nice to be this in love for the rest of his life?

He takes the fruit back inside to make breakfast. He cuts the fruit and lays it all out. He throws some pancake batter together using milk from the cow he found in the same barn as the horse and eggs he got from chickens that were wandering around a chicken coop outback. He’s cooking them when he realizes he doesn’t have a spatula or anything to turn them with.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He starts yanking drawers open furiously trying to find something so the pancakes don’t burn. He yanks open the last drawer along the center island and something stops him. There aren’t any spatulas or any kitchen utensils in it for that matter. There is only a small notebook with a picture. He slowly pulls the picture from the thin piece of leather holding it to the notebook, so as not to rip it. Staring back at him is the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen. She has long red hair and a soft face. She smiles gently at the camera, with her arm wrapped around Connor’s waist. His Connor. Dylan’s Connor. And it feels like Dylan’s heart stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short and it hurts but I regret nothing because this is a fix it au right??? It'll all turn out. The angst has to be worth it in the end.


	5. Chapter Five

Dylan can’t stop staring at the picture. It doesn’t seem possible. His Connor wouldn’t, couldn’t. He thought they would live here together. Because it was better than his preprogrammed life. Dylan didn’t realize that there was a girl to factor into said life. Dylan couldn’t think beyond the thought of losing Connor to this beautiful girl.

“What’s burning?”

Dylan jolts at Connor’s voice. “Shit.” He scrambles to get the burning pancake off the stove and turn the stove off. Connor goes around the kitchen yanking windows open and kicking the doors open to air out the smoke. A few minutes longer and Dylan could’ve burnt the house down. He almost wishes he did, because then at least all of his dreams would be up in smoke, not just the one he wanted most of all.

“Were you going to make me breakfast?” Connor asks voice fond as ever. He sidles up next to Dylan. He slides an arm around Dylan’s waist and pulls him in for a kiss on the head. Connor must feel how Dylan tenses because he pulls away slightly with a questioning look.

“What is it?” Connor asks.

“How could you?” Dylan can barely get the question out. He’s seething, unable to understand how Connor could’ve kept this from him all this time.

“Huh?” Connor tips his head to look at what Dylan is holding. “Dylan. I – I don’t…”

Dylan scrambles out from under Connor’s arm and storms out of the kitchen. Connor runs after him shouting his name. Dylan stops when he’s halfway up the stairs that Connor was beginning to fix. (Not the detail he should be focusing on right now but he can’t help it.)

“Please, Dylan. Please just listen to me,” Connor yells.

Dylan scoffs and turns to Connor. “Love to.”

“You will?” Connor asks, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll listen while you answer three questions.” Dylan takes a breath. It hurts so much to ask these questions. It hurts because Dylan feels like he already knows the answers. “Are you engaged to that beautiful woman?”

Connor nods, tears forming in his eyes. “Yes.”

Dylan is struggling with tears of his own as he asks the next question. “And did you tell me about it?”

Connor shakes his head. “No.”

“And do you seriously think I could ever forgive you?”

Connor takes a step forward. “Please, Dylan.”

Dylan throws up his hands and continues up the stairs. “Just go!”

“Please, just listen to me!” Connor says as he follows Dylan up the stairs.

“That’s enough listening!” Dylan snaps as he turns around. “Go.” He turns around again and finishes climbing the stairs. A part of him is satisfied not to hear Connor’s footsteps following behind him. Another part of him, (and a much larger part, if he’s being honest) wishes desperately for Connor to follow him and explain why this woman was never mentioned and if Connor loved her. Well, obviously he loved her if they were engaged. But on the other hand, maybe she was just another part of Connor’s perfectly programmed life.

It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Connor didn’t tell him. How can Dylan trust him after something like that? Of course, everything was too good to be true. Nothing good ever falls into Dylan’s lap. He works for everything he gets. He will let go of Connor and move on by fixing this place on his own. He can do it if he puts his mind to it. Besides, Mitch and Mikey are coming next week, and he can cry on their shoulders and show them the island and convince them to stay and help. He will build this hotel whatever it takes.

He finds a corner upstairs that is stable and curls into a ball. He can’t stop the tears, now that Connor is gone. Dylan sobs. They didn’t spend long together, but those weeks were the best Dylan had ever felt. He’s never had someone love him the way Connor had. And whatever reasons Connor had for hiding his fiancé from him, could never discredit how much it tore Dylan’s heart out to see that picture. Nothing could make up for that. Dylan thought he had found the one. He wished that had been the case. It had been too good to be true, and Dylan hadn’t wanted to believe it.

He sobs for the loss of his one true love. He sobs for the missing pieces of his heart that were carried away by the ocean tide with him. He cries for the love he will never know again. He cries for all the hopes and dreams he’d put in Connor that will never have promise again. He sobs until there is nothing left. All the tears have been shed, all the air shoved from his lungs, all the hope lost from his heart. By the time finally stands on shaky legs, it’s already getting dark. He’s lightheaded from lack of food, but he doesn’t think he could bring himself to eat if he tried.

So, he climbs down the stairs slowly and carefully and curls into bed. The sheets somehow still smell like Connor, and no matter how much Dylan wants to hate it and hate the smell, he can’t help but fall into it. He wraps himself in the sheet and breathes Connor’s scent in. He buries his face in Connor’s pillows and falls asleep in the empty bed surrounded in Connor’s scent to the waves lapping at the shore, the way Dylan’s pain laps at his heart.

Dylan wakes at the break of dawn, hyper-aware of how empty the small bed feels without Connor. He cuts the fruit he picked from the orchard yesterday, but he’s barely able to get it down his throat with how sick he feels. The day-old pancake batter still sits in the bowl on the counter where he left it. He dresses for the day and finds himself sitting on the dock watching the sunrise over the water.

He hears a whiney after some time. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses to himself. In all of yesterday’s chaos and heartbreak, he forgot about the horse. He gets up and quickly goes to the barn to give the horse it’s feed for the day, and then maybe a little extra. He checks the water and fills the bin. He spends some time brushing him and stroke his nose.

It doesn’t feel right to ride him into town after a day without food. So, Dylan walks to town. It’s a long walk, but Dylan feels like it’s necessary. His heartache won’t go away any time soon and getting into town sooner isn’t going to make a difference.

He finds himself in the bar where he and Connor would end up almost every day. He sits down at the bar instead of the table he and Connor would always sit at. The bar’s owner, a stout woman with long grey hair and loving eyes looks at him with curiosity. She grabs a beer from the fridge behind her and puts it on the bar.

“Where is partner?” she asks.

Dylan just shakes his head. He grabs for the beer and takes a swig.

“He leave you?” she asks.

Dylan just takes another swig of beer, unable to bring himself to do anything else.

“Why?”

Dylan takes a deep breath. “He has someone back home.”

“What do you mean, boy?”

A tear runs down his cheek. “He left me. He left me for her.”

The bar owner doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Then he stupid. He not know what he have in front of him. The bastard,” she mumbles.

Dylan chuckles a little.

The woman smiles at him. “There. That’s better. You always look better with a smile on your face.”

Dylan nods. “Thank you.”

“You will find someone better. I know it.”

Dylan doesn’t know how he could possibly be more grateful for this woman. She’s given him so much in the past few weeks. It was in their first week together he learned she owned the little farm they were staying at. She allowed them both to continue staying there as long as they promised to help fix the place up. Clearly, that had been no problem for the two of them, sharing a dream of turning it into a beautiful hotel. That all seemed so far away now.

She places a plate of food in front of him, making him jolt.

Dylan looks up at her confused.

“We can’t have our best patron looking so sad. Eat up. It’s on the house.”

Dylan smiled at her thankfully and dug into the huge platter.

He spends his day there, drinking and eating until she kicks him out long after dark. He walks back to the farm under the stars that he and Connor met under. Suddenly, he’s angry. He’s angry at the stars, at the island, and the decision to come here. He’s angry at everything that brought him and Connor together, and he’s even angrier at the things that tore them apart. He’s angry at Connor’s expensive education, at his father for pushing him so hard, at the stupid, beautiful girl he’s engaged to. He kicks the rocks in front of him and snaps twigs off of brushes. He throws them at the water, angry at it too. It shouldn’t get to glow so beautifully in the moonlight when he’s this sad. He throws rocks at it too. He screams into the night air. It doesn’t satisfy him the way he thought it would, but it satisfies him in a different way, a way he can’t identify but it feels good. So, he screams again. He screams, and he screams all the up the hill to the farmhouse. He screams until his voice is gone and he can’t even speak, let alone scream anymore.

He can hear that the horse is distressed by all that screaming, and to be honest, Dylan thinks he should be too. He goes into the barn and coos at the horse until it calms down enough for Dylan to stroke it. He stays there for longer than he should, crying into the mane of his horse. He almost wants to be angry at him too, because if it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have found Connor in the first place. But, it’s impossible to be mad at such a sweet creature. So, he strokes the horse’s neck and cries.

He sleeps in the barn that night, draped across the warm belly of his horse. It’s nothing like sleeping with Connor, but at least he’s not alone.

He wakes with a sore back and an aching heart. He feeds his horse and slowly makes his way back to the farmhouse where he gets ready for the day.

The next few days are so similar they fade into a blur in Dylan’s mind. He sleeps in the barn. He takes care of the horse, he feeds himself. He sits on the dock. He goes into town. He drowns his sorrows at the bar. He goes back to the barn.

About four or five days later, Dylan wakes up after sleeping on the horse again and realizes that today is the day that his friends will get in. He gets back to the house and draws some water from the well. He smells. He’s been sleeping in the barn for the past several nights. He washes and changes clothes. He eats his food, but not with enough care.

His friends are getting in today. He should be excited, but the feeling is muted by the sadness hanging over him that doesn’t seem to want to move.

He sits on the dock, waiting for the ferry to get in. As he looks at the water, he can’t help but think about Connor. He misses him. A lot. If only it didn’t have to end the way it did. Today would’ve been much different. He and Connor would’ve woken up together and made breakfast. Dylan would’ve grilled him to make sure Connor was prepared for his friends. They’d be playing in the water by the dock, rather than Dylan sitting here all by his lonesome. Dylan can’t put into words how much happier he would be if he could have Connor here now. But he has someone else far from here.

“Dylan? Dylan!”

Dylan looks up to see his friends on the dock with their suitcases. He grins so happy to see their smiling faces and bumbling selves. He runs into their hug then quickly doing their handshake with ease. Even depressed there are some things that come as easy as breathing. One of them is his friends and everything that comes with it.

“Oh my god! I see what you mean!” Mitch exclaims.

“This place is paradise!” Mikey piggybacks right off.

Dylan tears up a little bit, wishing Connor were here to witness this. “I’m so glad you’re here.” His voice is choked, and his friends pick up on it instantly.

“What happened?” Mitch asks.

“Where’s the hot architect?” Mikey says at almost exactly the same time.

Dylan takes a breath. “Uh, turns out he was lying to me.”

“He’s not an architect?” Mitch asks.

Dylan can’t help but chuckle through his tears. Man, he thought he saw the last of these last week. “No. He’s engaged. To someone else. And she looks beautiful. Now, he’s gone back to her.”

“I hate it when they do that,” Mitch says.

The three of them stare at each other before they all break out into giggles.

“But, really. Are you okay?” Mikey asks.

Dylan nods. “I will be.” He swallows and pulls out from his friends' grasps. “Besides. I need to show you how wonderful this farmhouse is. It’s going to make the most beautiful hotel!”

His friends smile and grab their bags. Dylan gets them situated on the mule he thought to bring down with the horse. As they ride up the mountain, Dylan tells them about the farm. “The main house is so huge and there’s so many little barns and buildings around it. The courtyard could be gorgeous with some work and a bit of landscaping. We could put a fountain there.”

“Did you dream all this up or did the architect?” Mitch asks, tightening his grip around Dylan’s waist as the horse jolts over a fallen log.

“I did. Well… I started it. He helped me finish some ideas for it,” Dylan admits sheepishly. It almost feels wrong to want to work on the hotel without Connor. He wants to think he knows it’s not okay, but Connor left only last week. He’s sure the feeling will fade in time, especially as he starts to get more work done on it.

“Have you started any projects yet?” Mikey asks.

Dylan nods. “The stairs broke when I got here. Connor fixed them. There are a few unfinished projects around too. And I guess the stairs are unfinished. We didn’t get the railing up before…” Dylan can’t bring himself to say it.

His friends just nod. He can feel Mitch’s head against his back.

They arrive at the farm not much later. Dylan dismounts and helps Mitch off. Mikey falls off the mule to easily.

Mitch is kind of staring at the farmhouse with his head cocked sideways. “I don’t see what you see Dyl, but if you think you can do it, then I believe you.”

Dylan shakes his head. He takes one of the bags and gets them into his makeshift bedroom in the main house. He takes his friends on a tour, showing them the spots he’d fixed up with Connor’s help and trying to get them to imagine the place it could be with some work. Neither of them seems to get it like Connor did. It’s a little disappointing. He’d hoped having his friends here would rekindle the spark to move forward with the project. He hasn’t lost hope just yet, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to finish the huge project on his own.

“I wanna see the rest of the island!” Mikey says. “We’re in Greece. I wanna see how beautiful it is.”

Mitch nods along.

“Okay,” Dylan agrees.

“But, can we not take the horse?” Mitch asks a little bit of a whine in his voice.

Dylan sighs. “There’s really not any other way to get around quickly.”

“We can’t just walk?”

Dylan rolls his eyes. Mitch has always been a version of his twelve-year-old self. “I suppose.”

Mitch grins widely, and Dylan can’t help but shake his head fondly at his friend. So, the three of them set off around the island. Dylan tells them stories about each place, starting with the dock and Alex. Dylan can’t help but giggle at the way Mitch seems to ogle at the thought of the pretty sailor.

He takes them past the orchard, where Dylan spent so much time, trying to find the ripest fruit to bring in for their breakfasts. He also tells them about the little goat that used to follow him around. He hasn’t seen it for a day or two, and he doesn’t see it as they pass through. He wonders where it’s gone off to.

Past the orchard is a field where Connor taught Dylan to horseback ride.

_Dylan remembers Connor walking in on him one day, while he was brushing out Xavier’s mane. He’d looked up when he heard Connor’s footsteps over the hayed barn floor._

_“Do you know how to ride?” Connor had asked._

_Dylan shook his head. “I’m sure you do. You know how to do everything.”_

_Connor scoffs. “I don’t know how to do everything.”_

_Dylan raised his eyebrows. “So, you don’t know how to ride?”_

_Connor doesn’t say anything, crossing his arms and lips forming a thin line._

_Dylan giggles. “So, are you gonna teach me or what?”_

_Connor softens, arms loosening a bit and his fond smile coming back. “Yeah. I can teach you.”_

_They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find the correct equipment to ride. Eventually, they found the tack room in another barn on the property. They take the horse out of the pasture just beyond the orchard, led by the harness Connor has effortlessly put on. Connor must sense Dylan is a little nervous. He rubs Dylan’s shoulders gently and kissing him low on the neck._

_“You’re going to do fine. This is a good horse. He’ll take good care of you.”_

_Dylan takes a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s do this.”_

_Connor nods. He turns to face the side of the horse, loosely holding the halter. “Put your right foot in that stirrup there. Can you do it?”_

_Dylan grabs onto the sides of the saddle and grips tightly as he hefts his right foot into the stirrup. It’s high off the ground, higher that Dylan thought and he’s awkwardly dangling, slightly._

_“Now,” Connor says, gently pressing his free hand into Dylan’s shoulder to keep him steady, “you need to push off and swing your left leg over the horse.”_

_“You want me to do what now?” Dylan asks from his awkward position next to the horse._

_“It’s really not as difficult as it sounds,” Connor says, rubbing Dylan’s shoulder. “Besides you’re strong. You can do this.”_

_Dylan swallows. Having Connor give him compliments helps a little, but not as much as he wished it did. He takes a deep breath and jumps off the ground, pushing into the stirrup and swinging his leg over the horse. He lands heavily in the saddle, but the horse doesn’t startle, only shifts to accommodate the new weight._

_“See?” Connor says smiling up at Dylan. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”_

_Dylan shakes his head._

_It takes a few days for Dylan to get the hang of riding, and even longer for him to feel comfortable doing it. But, Connor teaches him to properly hold the harness and lead the horse with just the smallest of twitches in his hand. He learns how to post when he brings the horse to a trot and how to coax the horse into a canter. Before long, he is galloping alongside of Connor as he rides his motorcycle._

Each place brings back new memories. Like when they went skinny dipping and made out in the cove behind the property. Or when they went camping and star gazed for hours on the top of the small hill that comprises the island. Or how they spent hours riding Connor’s motorcycle around the island. Everywhere they go, Dylan can’t escape Connor’s memory.

They go back to the barn, where Dylan makes them a pasta dish, he learned from the bartender at their favorite restaurant.

“We need to go out,” Mitch declares.

“What do you mean?” Dylan asks, scaping the food scraps into the trash bin that he takes to the compost.

“Like we need to go out, get drunk, and have some fun.”

“There are no bars or clubs here like there are in Toronto,” Dylan tells him.

“Yeah, sure, but we can still get drunk, can’t we? We can still find some fun?”

Dylan hates the look on Mitch’s face, the way he knows he’s right. The way he knows Dylan will fall for it, the way he did so many times during their college careers. Oh, how wasted they used to get at parties and gay bars and even their own apartment some nights. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, knowing he’s giving in already. “Yes. Alright. Fine.”

Mitch and Mikey cheer. And that’s how they end up stumbling around the island at around midnight, drunk off their asses and trying (and failing) to sing whatever song had been on at the last bar they were in. They’d ventured farther into the town than Connor and Dylan usually did, generally sticking to their favorite, and not going farther. The trio had found several small taverns lined up in a row, all lit up and blasting music onto the street for all to hear. Now, they were stumbling back after all had closed, hanging onto one another so they don’t fall down.

Dylan feels like he hasn’t had this much fun in a long time, probably since he left Toronto and his friends. But then, he remembers Connor and the fun they had together. It was a different kind of fun, a fun where they didn’t have to be shit faced. A fun where they could laugh together about something small. They were comfortable with each other in a way Dylan had never been with someone. It was a more intimate fun than getting drunk with his two best pals.

He collapses on his bed, tears in the corners of his eyes. How could he have lost something so good? They were perfect together. So, why couldn’t they have made it through? It hurts Dylan’s heart to remember seeing that beautiful girl hanging on Connor’s arm in that picture. How could Dylan be any kind of competition to that and to a beautiful life back at home? He doesn’t even wave a flag in comparison. He imagines Connor going back to her. She’d kiss him at the airport. He’d carry her to her car and drive them both home. He’d cut his hair and start his shiny new job. He’d have a beautiful home with a white picket fence, two kids and a dog. He has the perfect life before him, and Dylan can only offer him a ragged old farm that he doesn’t even own. Of course, Connor left him.

He curls on his side and lets the tears fall, heartbreaking all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst is my MO. Did you really think I wasn't going to drag this out a bit??


	6. Chapter Six

They’re all hanging on the beach. Dylan had made a fruit salad to go with some cereal for breakfast and they had spent the rest of the day lounging on the beach, nursing hangovers with bottles of water and loaves of bread Connor had helped Dylan bake a few days ago. They’d occasionally venture out in the water to cool off.

Dylan was almost asleep when Mitch asks, “Food? Can we get food?”

Dylan sits up yawning. Mikey is doing the same next to him but staying horizontal on his towel and propping his head up with his hands. Dylan smiles. “Of course. I know the best place in town.”

They find themselves in Dylan and Connor’s favorite little tavern, close to the edge of town and nearest to the farm. The small bartender smiles at him as they walk in. He sits down on the stool in front of her.

“Your usual?” she asks.

Dylan nods. “These two will need menus.”

She nods and grabs the menus from beneath the bar to hand to his friends.

“So, who they?” she asks.

“My best friends from back home.”

She nods thoughtfully as she pours his beer into a glass. “They come to help console your heart?”

Mitch giggles a little, and Dylan can’t help but do the same. “Yeah a little bit,” he says.

“It’s not like we knew we’d be shoulders to cry on,” Mitch says.

“Yeah,” Mikey says, “we thought we’d be meeting Mr. Right.”

“There no such thing,” the bartender says.

Dylan’s face scrunches. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, no person is a half. A person is a whole. No one can make you change the definition of you,” she says poking Dylan hard in the chest. He rubs at the spot as she continues. “Yes, you love him. Yes, he leave. Do not let that decide your future. You cannot make people choose you. You must choose yourself.”

All three boys are left blinking in awe at the woman.

“You learn a lot listening to people cry sob stories every night,” she says with a wink. She pushes a plate of food in front of Dylan before she goes back to the kitchen to give them Mickey and Mitch’s orders.

Mitch and Mikey look at one another before turning to Dylan. “She’s not wrong, you know,” Mitch says.

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

There’s a quick commotion outside. Dylan’s eyebrows scrunch. It sounded like the owner of the bar. She sounds angry. “Man. Coming over here!” Dylan hears through the bar.

Mikey and Mitch look at each other, then at Dylan.

There’s a soft voice that Dylan can’t quite make out. Then, “I know who you looking for,” from the bar owner in a snark only she can pull off. “With your wandering eyes and restless groin. I should cut it off the way you hurt that precious angel.”

Another pause that Dylan can only assume is someone talking. “He pick himself up since you leave. He does not want to see you.”

“Please.” Dylan hears.

His heart stops. In that moment he doesn’t know what to do. It’s him. It’s Connor. He’s here. He’s back. But why? “Connor,” he breathes more than says.

He sees his friends get up from their barstools, but it doesn't register. Connor has returned to the island. Dylan’s heart can only hope that it’s for him.

“It’s called karma and it’s pronounced ‘ha!’” the bar owner says, loudly and definitively.

“You’re the architect?” Dylan hears Mitch accuse. And before Dylan can move his friends are shouting at Connor outside the bar. He has to take a moment to appreciate how wonderful his friends are, even if Dylan is hoping they don’t scare Connor away at the same time.

Finally, his body catches up with his mind and he’s jumping off the stool and racing outside to see Connor’s face once again. The scene before him when he makes it outside is chaos. The bar owner is sitting in her chair outside the building, looking smug. His friends are screaming and shouting. The people all around them are staring, stopping everything they’re doing. And in the middle of it all, is Connor, looking dejected and horribly sad. And Dylan, despite everything in him telling him to be angry with Connor and to hate him, calls out, “Connor!”

Connor turns, eyes wide, and time slows. Dylan sees every detail in Connor’s face as if they were laying next to one another in bed. He's no better and no worse than when he last saw him. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. It’s all Dylan can do to not burst with joy.

“Are you really here?” Dylan asks as Connor takes a few cautious steps forward.

Connor nods. “I wasn’t just going to leave you, Dyl.”

Dylan swallows a sob. He can feel the tears running down his cheeks. After all the crying he’s done in the past week he’d have thought there wouldn’t be any left, even for joy. “Then why did you?”

Connor takes another step towards Dylan, reaching out to touch Dylan’s cheek. “I had to go break it off with her Dyl. I couldn’t just never return. She needed her chance to move on.”

“But you didn’t tell me!” Dylan exclaims. He jerks away from Connor’s touch, no matter how much he wants to lean into it. Connor had left him with no explanation. He had been in tears for the past week. He thought he’d lost the one person he’d found who would love him. “You broke my heart.”

Connor nods. “I know. I wish there was a way I could’ve done things differently. Maybe told you about her before or stayed until I could tell you my plans. I regret the way things played out, Dylan, but I never planned to leave you.”

Dylan swallows. This is his person. He should be able to forgive his person, shouldn’t he?

“Most of all I regret breaking your heart, hurting you. I’ll be making up for that for the rest of my life, Dylan. I know that. If you’ll just give me the chance.”

Dylan purses his lips. Of course, he can forgive his person. It’s Connor. Connor holds his heart, and here he is, presenting his own for Dylan to hold. “Yes.” Connor smiles.

Dylan’s breath stutters. Connor is his and has always been his. Connor catches him when his knees buckle. Connor kisses his forehead and his cheeks and eventually, Dylan manages to tilt his face so their kissing, really, really kissing. Dylan doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy in his life. He wants to live in this moment forever. 

Dylan pulls away and looks into Connor’s soft eyes, at the beautiful man that is smiling down at him. “I should probably introduce you to my friends.”

Connor chuckles. “Probably.” He plants a kiss on Dylan’s nose. “I love you.”

Dylan smiles and nuzzles Connor’s neck. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I'm had so much fun writing this and I hope you had as much fun reading it!


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something extra!!!

Dylan walks out of the barn. It’s not the same barn as it was before. They had to tear that one down. They had to tear down most of the buildings to create the hotel they wanted. Thankfully, they didn’t have to tear down the main farmhouse. It stands strong as before, and so much more beautiful. They’ve built the hotel they dreamed up when they were kids. And it’s the most incredible thing Dylan has ever seen. 

Connor is standing by the fountain in the center of the courtyard talking with the landscapers. Dylan leans against the wall of the farmhouse, now the main hotel building, watching him. Ever since they started this project, truly started with construction workers and builders and designers, he’s been incredible to watch. So focused and so into it. Dylan’s into Connor like that. He loves the way Connor attacks anything with a single-minded focus. And it’s turned their dream into a reality. 

Connor turns to point at something and see Dylan standing there. He smiles and blows a kiss. Dylan puts a hand over his heart and then blows one back. It’s the biggest night of their life. Well, maybe one of the biggest nights of their lives. Their wedding was huge. But, so many people are on their way to celebrate the opening of their hotel, compared to the small ceremony they had on the island with just some close friends. Connor’s parents are coming. Dylan invited his, but he’s sure they won’t show. But if there was ever an achievement in his life that they would attend, it would be this. Ryan is coming. Mitch and Mikey have been there for the past three weeks helping Dylan prepare and put the final touches on his paradise.

And babysitting. He doesn’t think he would’ve made it to today if he didn’t have some help with Sofie. About a year ago a town girl died giving birth to her child with no other family. When asked, they couldn’t say no. They had set up a nursery at the back of their home, the old goat house, and only other remaining original building. They’ve named her after the wonderful lady who gave the farm and brought them together. It was only fitting. 

Dylan turns at the sound of his friends bickering. Mitch is wearing Sofie on his front. She is smiling happily, waving her bear around in one hand. Mikey is hauling a baby bag on his shoulder, full to the brim. It’s a bag so large, neither Dylan nor Connor had ever really used it. But Mitch and Mikey often packed it full and took Sofie on long day trips. It helped them finish their project without interruption and Dylan couldn’t be more thankful for his friends. 

“Hey! How was she?” Dylan asks.

Mitch smiles. “Like she always is. Such a little charmer your girl.”

Dylan blushes a little at the praise. Then, Connor is there kissing Sofie’s head. “There’s our little girl,” he says with so much fondness in his voice Dylan could burst. He pulls Sofie out of her carrier and bounces her on his hip. 

“How’s the landscaping coming?” Dylan asks to avoid looking like a complete fool with how much he feels for his husband and his daughter. 

“It’s about finished. Mostly just getting the last of the flowers placed for the opening. Shouldn’t you be worried about guests getting in?” Connor asks. “When do the first ones get in?”

“Three days from now. I’ve got to go through to prep all the rooms.” Dylan leans forward to kiss his daughter on the forehead than Connor on the cheek. 

“I can’t believe it’s all come together,” Connor sighs.

“Yeah, I never saw this when Dylan first showed us all those years ago,” Mitch says. 

“You guys have done something incredible here,” Mikey says. 

Dylan beams, unable to stop himself. He looks to Connor and sees him in a similar state. 

“So, what did you decide on for the name?” Mitch asks. “I don’t think we’ve heard yet.”

Dylan and Connor smile at one another. “It’s the Hotel Bella Sofia,” they say together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I needed to add a little at the end because ya know, they do build their dream together and have a daughter and yeah... the good mushy stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood and make the writing happen faster (even though this ones officially finished lol). 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at the same username if you want to talk or just chat! I'm always down for anything you guys!!!


End file.
